“Grandpa, I’ll not be long,” said the girl, alighting from the vehicle, and speaking loud enough to be overheard by a number of guests.
“Mon Dieu!” groaned Mrs. Gibbon, who guessed who it was.
Now, Mabel did not know Kitty’s mother, but it so happened that it was she whom the girl first addressed.
“I am come to call on Miss Gibbon. Can you tell me, madam, whether she is in?” inquired Mabel.
“Go ask one of the servants,” replied the widow, her eyes darting flashes of anger as she spoke. Then suddenly a bright thought struck her; quick a change came over her features, and, dropping her voice, she added just as Mabel was turning away, “Stop! I remember now Miss Gibbon has gone on a picnic and won’t be back till quite late.”
“Oh! too bad,” ejaculated Mabel. “I may never see her again.”
In another moment the wagon drove off and the girl was on her way to the West.
When Harry returned the following week to New York and told his father of his betrothal to Miss Gibbon, the heiress, Mr. Fletcher senior was as pleased as Kitty’s mother had been.
“But now, my son,” he said, “you must not be idle any longer; you must come down town and learn business.”
“Business!” exclaimed Harry with an air of surprise.